


Alhasha, Revas.

by MyrddinDerwydd



Series: Sleeping in the Rain [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Magic, My First Smut, Outdoor Sex, Sex Magic, Smut, Solacemancers, Solavellan, Spells & Enchantments, pain and pleasure, sex in the rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:40:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyrddinDerwydd/pseuds/MyrddinDerwydd
Summary: “Run with me…” Solas tells her, a mischievous smile spreading slowly across his face. “Let me be your wolf.”-------An intensely smutty Dragon Age: Inquisition drabble that will eventually end up part of my longer work, A Long Hunt. It heats up fast about 1/3 of the way in.Solas and Elisara wander in the Emerald Graves at night, finding a bit of freedom in the rain.Completely NSFW, minor warning for non-consensual use of magic on a lover.In truth, this is the first smutty/explicit piece that I've released, and I'd appreciate hearing from you in the comments if you do/don't enjoy it.Elvhen translations based on the excellent work by FenxShiral, any errors are mine and I'd love advice/feedback as my linguistics knowledge is fairly minor.Also, I cannot seem to write short things.Writing Masterpost, organized by main character.





	Alhasha, Revas.

**Author's Note:**

> Elvhen words:  
> Alhasha - wild  
> revas - free  
> vheraan - lion/lioness
> 
> Elvhen phrases:  
> Lasa ar’an alas’nira aron fen’en... alhasha, revas. - Let us dance as the wolves do... wild and free.  
> Josir elvar’el, ‘ma fen. - Let's run faster, my wolf.  
> 'ma vhenan - my heart (term of endearment)  
> 'ma fen - my wolf  
> 'ma vheraan - my lioness  
> ‘ma alhasha vheraan - my wild lioness  
> Fen’en josal revas - Wolves running free  
> Isalan na, Elisara. Fen, vheraan, asha... ga’nare - I want (lust for) you, Elisara. Wolf, lioness, woman... all of you.  
> Ar lath ma - I love you

The rain starts only a few minutes after they all abandon the campfire to crawl into the patched Inquisition tents. One of the giants had completely trashed the camp earlier that day, and it had taken them nearly an hour to kill the raging creature.At least it was the last one they’d seen. Several soldiers had been killed despite her group’s presence, and many of the tents and other supplies were damaged beyond repair. Fewer tents than usual means that she doesn’t have to suffer the bizarre normal circumstance of a tent to herself, but she has the extra pleasure of sharing with Solas. The two elves’ relationship isn’t really a secret, but it is not widely known outside of their close companions. Both of them are intensely private people, in many ways, and neither seemed to enjoy a spectacle. Everyone usually insisted that she have her own space, which was ridiculous, but it meant that she and Solas weren’t seen openly sleeping together either. When Solas had spoken up, saying that “The Inquisitor and I can share a tent,” Blackwall and Dorian had just chuckled and joined a pair of soldiers in the larger of the two remaining tents.

Elisara crouched at the partially open tent flap, peering out at the immense forest of the Emerald Graves. It was a beautiful night really, mild without being cold, the air soft and full of moisture. She glanced back at Solas, watching as he pulled that ubiquitous white sweater off over his head, folding it before laying it on his pack. His tall leather boots sat next to her own in the corner of the tent. Seeing him like this was always a treat. Tall and lean in his snug sleeveless tunic, matching dark green leg wraps, with worn green trousers that had obviously seen better days… he stretches his arms up from where he sits, hands clasped above his head, and her eyes are drawn to the bit of bare stomach that the rising shirt reveals. She smiles to herself, glancing down at the identical wraps on her own legs… the pattern matches his, not the simpler pattern she was taught as a child. They had come a long way from almost coming to blows arguing about the Dalish.

Tap tap tap, tapitty tap. She ought to be asleep. Leaning back against Solas’s chest, his arms wrapped around her, his breath soft on the back of her neck, she ought to be sleeping quite contentedly, in fact. Instead, she huffs out an irritated breath and glares up at the tent. I hate these tents in the rain… it sounds so different from in an aravel or in a cave… or under a tree. Her restless fidgeting wakes Solas eventually, and he chuckles, tenderly kissing her temple when she explains the problem. They slip out of the tent a few minutes later, heading off into the forest to wander for a few hours. 

Green and brown, pale skin and silent steps, the two elves could be mistaken for wraiths as they roam. The roots of the trees are so large that walking among them is more akin to climbing, and they run nimbly around the living towers, monuments to elven heroes. Eventually, they come across one of the large guardian wolves that hadn’t ended up in the middle of a campsite, and she teases him until he joins her atop the statue, cool and rough in the rain. For a while they simply lay there staring at the stars. Solas sits with his back against the wolf’s head, looking completely at ease, the jawbone around his neck reminding her of the elven knights who had run with these wolves. Heroes, protectors… their ancestors. He had loosely re-braided her wet hair, and she sprawled the length of the statue, head in her lover’s lap. We are the heroes now, she thought, and we should enjoy this brief moment of freedom… while it lasts. 

He shifts his weight, resettling himself on the stone, and a mischievous smile spread across her face when she notices the bulge pressing against the lacing of his pants. A thrill of desire darts through her, settling warmly between her thighs, and she turns to brush her lips against him. The sharp intake of breath answers any question she might have asked, and she twists nimbly to lie on her stomach, ankles crossed behind her as she straddles the wolf’s back. Moments later, she has the laces undone and is slowly tracing the shape of him with her tongue, his finger buried in her long hair. Raindrops fall on his staff, moistening it as well, and Elisara takes him into her mouth, bringing Solas to the edge of release as he leans back against the wolf’s neck. She doesn’t like satisfying him completely like this, unless he asks her to, and she rolls her heated, swollen bud gently against the stone as her lips wrap around his erect staff. 

A dangerous smile plays across his lips, and he quickly strips her out of the wet, loose sleeping pants. Discarded to the ground below, the raindrops join him in kissing her bare thighs as he pins her down on the statue. Hungrily, he brings her to the edge with his fingers and tongue before pulling the elf forward to straddle him, aroused even further after watching her, feeling her folds slick and hot in the rain. They each strip bits of clothing off of the other as they slowly ride on the wolf together. Eventually all that is left besides their leg wrappings are Solas’s pants, already open and forgotten, soaked and slick beneath his stones. Eisara even takes his pendant off, laying it atop the statue’s head as he teases her nipples with his tongue. 

She whispers her longings to her lover, telling Solas a fantasy of the two running free with wolves, respected companions as those of the Emerald Knights had been. The stone is rough on her knees, and his back, the rain a cool caress as it coats their bodies. A soft, steady drizzle. He can scarcely believe just how much she enjoys this, how open to the past, just as her body is open to his desire. Searching her green eyes, he joins her fantasy, rocking their hips in a smooth, rolling, rhythm that slides his staff in deep...

“Lasa ar’an alas’nira aron fen’en... alhasha, revas.” He’d spoken those words before, and she smiles fiercely at the memory of that first time, on the couch in her quarters.

She braces her feet against the back of his thighs, toes against the stone beneath them. A deep river, smooth and strong, running through the two elves, high on the back of an ancient wolf. 

“Run with me…” Solas tells her, a mischievous smile spreading slowly across his face. “Let me be your wolf.” 

Rainwater is dripping from the tips of his ears, running in a stream down her back. A small pool has collected just above his staff, where his stomach curves away from her. 

“Josir elvar’el, ‘ma fen.” Her words spark something in the mage, and Elisara gasps as the pooled water splashes her bud, running along her folds and joining his staff as he fills her. Her muscles tighten around him as he touches somewhere new deep inside of her. 

“Alhasha… revas…” Solas chants in a rough, deep voice as he pulls her against himself with each thrust. She throws her head back, mouth open in ecstasy, fingers digging into his shoulders as he sinks in to the hilt again and again. 

“Alhasha… revas…” His eyes are barely open, seeming to lose himself in joining with her. 

“Oh… ‘ma fen! ‘Ma vhenan! Ohh---” Her voice rises sharply and her back arches as a keener wave of pleasure curls through her, cutting short her cries. A wolf’s howl sounds in the distance, haunting and powerful. 

“‘Ma alhasha vheraan…” Solas truly loves calling her “his lioness,” but he only does so when they are alone. Elisara moans softly, her thighs trembling as she feels him sink into her again. 

Blue light shines from his eyes, new and startling, a sharp edge in the soft, damp night. He nudges aside part of his mind, separate but linked. Easier to work spells that way. People have forgotten how much power there is in sex, he muses as she gasps and trembles. Drawing on a small bit of his mana, he summons a small sparkling shape. 

“Revas…” his voice is warm, his strokes steady despite their mounting pleasure, and a throaty growl escapes his throat when tendrils wrap around her thighs to hold the magic in place between their joined bodies. Another wolf howls, and her eyes snap open at the added pressure between her folds. 

“Alhasha…” he moans, battling down the heady thrill filling him as ancient magic snakes within her along his staff, a smooth ridge flush against her bud. Mouth aching for the taste of her, his wet lips claim her own while she gasps in delight at the new touch. A hard, deep kiss, and he breaks it quickly. Power begins to steadily wind into Solas with every roll of her hips, fingers pressing into her ass, thumbs curled into the curve of her hips, keeping him focused, keeping their run slow, deep. 

Golden hair has turned dark with the rain, sticking to her neck in long streaks, and her lips graze his ear, pressing against the tender flesh behind his jaw. Breathless, voice thick with desire, she whispers, “Fen’en josal revas...” 

His breath catches, despite everything… oh, she will never know how much those murmured words against his throat mean to him. She dips her hot tongue into the water collecting in the hollow of his neck, feeling a primal moan rumble against her lips as she draws the coolness along his skin. 

“Oh, my fierce vheraan…” He wants to just give himself over to the moment, but… blue threads wend downward to curl around his stones as they smack against her, dripping with rain and slick feminine sex. 

Gasping at the sudden outpouring of power, flashing white hot, racing up his spine, Solas keeps control by the barest of margins, channeling energy into the statue beneath their entwined bodies. Wolves’ voices rise again in the distance, howling almost as one. He sinks his teeth desperately into Elisara's smooth, wet shoulder, and she cries out in pain. The sharp, metallic taste of blood gives him enough of an edge to shape the forces he sends spiralling out into the night. A message, carried to every rock, hill, and tree of the Dales, imbued with power to answer. 

**Thenala, rosa’harthal sul Harellan.** _[Wake, and stand ready for the Rebel]._  
**Fen'Harel lahnal.** _[Fen’harel is calling.]_  


A worthy triumph… Released, the spell will continue to draw on the energy of their joined bodies until he breaks its hold, and he plans to enjoy the side benefits for a while longer. Lips and tongue smooth her broken flesh in tender apology, and he hears her breath hitch, twisting her hips slightly as she sheathes him again. 

“We should run wild more often.” She feels him grin against her skin, then gasps as the small blue knot throbs along her bud. 

His voice is thick and husky, breath warm against her ear. “I will always run with you, vhenan.” Free to focus on his lover, Solas pushes their pace slightly faster, groaning at the tightness in his staff that seems to grow with every sensual roll of Elisara's hips. Everything happens faster now, he muses, still honestly startled at how quickly he reaches his limits, and how rapidly the spell had gained power. They are both dripping with sweat and rain as his magic pulses with every thrust, tendrils within her body feeding and drawing on the waves of pleasure that are becoming constant. It is just on the edge of excess, the perfect mix of added pressure and friction on his stones, around the tip of his staff, against her folds, along her walls as they slide around him. 

“Isalan na, Elisara. Fen, vheraan, asha... ga’nare.” 

His lips close around the edge of her long, slender ear at the peak of his next thrust, enjoying her soft, panting moans as he nibbles toward the tender tip, still dripping with rainwater. The heel of her hand hits the statue behind him, bracing as Solas’s hips rise off of the stone. A simple, high keening cry escapes her lips as he continues, his breath and tongue hot against her ear. He fills her again, and again, until her whole body is a tight arc of energy, her core throbbing, ecstasy so close to the edge of pain. Every time their bodies meet he feels he might burst, his blood racing as his hips hit the stone again. Her thighs are slick beneath his hands, and she chants his name with every breath. 

“Solas… Solas… ‘ma fen… Solas...” 

An intense, blue-white glow wreathes their hips, pulsing like a star. A beat racing in time with her pounding heart, and--- heels dig into his ass, thighs clench around his hips as she crashes hard over the edge of oblivion, enveloped by a crackling blue aura of sheer pleasure. Every nerve sparks, waves of sensation making her writhe against Solas's chest as his thrusts lift them again. 

A primal cry tears free from his throat as his muscles clench, pouring himself into her as they hang nearly suspended on the statue. White hot spears of sheer power arc through them both, his staff a conduit, tendrils of blue ecstacy everywhere. 

Far and wide across the Emerald Graves, wolves howl in chorus, untamed power answering a rebel’s call. A deep, slow throb settles between them, bodies joined as one. They both moan as he rocks her slowly, extending the intense wave they still ride. Her toes are curled tightly into the back of his thighs, her forehead and hand resting against the stone over his shoulder. His feet and back are all that touches the statue, and Solas eventually lowers the two of them as their breathing slows and the pulses of magic wane.

Each drop of cool rain on their skin is a balm, and he wraps his arms around her waist, drawing in the latent mana and breaking the spell with a thought. She flexes her hands slowly, fingers pressing hard into the stone, into the long muscles of his shoulder. Another shiver of contentment ripples through Elisara’s body, little aftershocks that he enjoys almost as much as the crashing waves. Both still breathing hard, deeper than usual, Solas chuckles and nuzzles her neck. 

“Elisara… ‘ma vheraan,” he murmurs contentedly, brushing her ear with his nose. 

Quick, deep, her mouth claims his, strong fingers wrapping around the back of his neck and pulling his head away from the stone. Sweeping past his lips, her tongue strokes his, hard and fierce, as she breathes in deeply, pulling back. Drops of rain roll over her collarbone and across the taut muscles of her shoulders. 

Moonlight shines out from between the clouds, turning the drops of rain on their skin into shimmering gems, and she marvels as she gazes into the elf’s brilliant blue eyes. Exhausted and content, he is easier to read than a book, in that moment. He truly wants this, she sees. He loves being with her, wild and free with both magic and body. A soft smile creeps onto her face, and her voice is tender and fierce when she speaks. “Alhasha, revas, Solas ‘ma fen.” 

Something flickers in his eyes as his fingers stroke smoothly across her wet back. “Ar lath ma, Elisara.” 

Smiling more widely, she leans back a little and lets her hands slide to rest on his chest. She can feel him within her, slowly softening, and she shifts just enough to feel him slip out to where she can see his staff extending from between her thighs. Solas groans softly and closes his eyes for a moment, hands tightening on her back. High and musical, her quick laugh is full of delight. 

“There is always something new with you, vhenan,” she says, her words bringing him back. 

“You are the one who decided to take me atop a Guardian statue,” he teases. “But in truth, there is something I must tell you.” 

A serious conversation while still soaked from sex is far from unusual for the two of them, but still, he hesitates. She waits patiently, eyes slowly roaming his body. Fingers gently tracing up and down her spine, catching droplets of rain. 

“Tonight… the spell that I cast. I used our passion, stole power from our lust.” 

Blinking in surprise, she laughs again. “Trickster! Although I doubt you planned it.” The guilt eases from his eyes as she speaks. “I am not upset vhenan, even though think most people would be.” 

Green eyes far away for a moment, he can see her quickly jumping through ideas, sharp and intuitive as always. 

“Is that why it was easier to keep going for so long? The spell drained the intensity?” 

The corners of his mouth turn up in that small, appreciative smile that she loves. The mage nods, his cool blue eyes intently watching a droplet of water fall from her nipple and trace a path across her thigh. 

“It also intensifies our pleasure, if used well.” 

“Mmmm…and so you did. I could feel it wrapped around you, pulsing against me.” 

Her legs are still wrapped around him, knees pressing into the stone of the statue. His eyes follow another trickle of water as it runs into the soft thicket of hair between her thighs, and feels it cool against his staff where he still penetrates her. Slowly shifting her weight, Elisara presses away from him, leaning back with her hands on his lean, muscled thighs. It elicits a soft groan from Solas as he watches the tip of his staff appear, reddened and dripping. 

She smirks and lets her legs dangle free on either side of his narrow waist, his thighs pressed beneath her own. Toes stretch beneath soaked green wrappings, their hands resting together on her knees. The moonlight and rain are still gently drifting down on the two lovers and their Guardian. 

“What did you use the spell to do?” she asks after a quiet moment, her mind never halting, so typical. 

Solas tilts his head back to rest on the statue, letting the rain fall on closed eyes. Dozens of wolves and other wild creatures had heard his call. Seven… now eight, nine, of his Guardians had touched his mind, answering. Beneath them, the first sat alert and unmoving. 

“Searching. Looking for artifacts, ruins, anything here that might tell us more.” The half-lie comes easily to his lips, but it cannot be helped. Every idea, every plan, every method - destructive or not - leaves him needing allies to bring back his People. Even after he retrieves his orb he will need those he has called on before. 

“Hmmm… I wish that I knew more of the Emerald Knights, Solas.” Her voice is wistful, longing, and it makes his heart ache. “This is only a small part of what the Dalish have lost… if we could even reclaim this much, it would be incredible.” 

Fingers gently brush across her knee. “I know, vhenan.” 

Sighing, she leans back further, intending to allow the rain to finish rinsing her body clean. Startled when she feels clothing behind her shoulders, she turns to find that Solas’s pants are still bunched around his calves. Her mouth hangs open in surprise, her gaze darting back to his grinning face, and their shared laughter rings out in the clear night air. Between her hands and his nimble feet, they manage to toss the pants onto the statue’s rear without really moving too much. She stretches her arms out long above her, breasts bouncing gently as she finally leans back against his legs, dark green leg wraps their only clothing.

Moonlight on her vallaslin, shimmering green and wet on her upturned face… Can she be my strongest ally? Solas wonders, fingers tracing patterns on her skin. Or will the truth tear us asunder, setting fen and vheraan at each other’s throats?

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a short drabble about "Sleeping in the rain," and turned into 6 pages of Solas and Elisara having sex.
> 
> More Elvhen:  
> Thenala, rosa’harthal sul Harellan - Wake, and stand ready for the Rebel.  
> Fen'Harel lahnal - Fen’harel is calling  
> 


End file.
